Articles of Truth: CONCLUSION
by piper-leo-wyatt
Summary: The end of the series; Carrie's baby saga.


SET: POST FINALE SEASON

SET: POST FINALE SEASON

Carrie put both hands on her protruding tummy and took several deep breathes.

"That's it honey, you're doing great." Big stood beside her, massaging her shoulders as she sat on the end of the bed with her eyes shut.

"Oh it hurts!" She moaned in an outtake of breath as another contraction passed. "Get Miranda. . .Get Miranda. . .GET MIRANDA!" Big did as he was told. He knew that Carrie wanted him there to witness the birth of his child, but he also understood how Carrie wanted – no, _needed_ – Miranda to be beside her too.

By the time they got to the hospital Miranda was waiting. As soon as she saw Carrie she rushed over to her and gripped her hand. Miranda new what it was like to have a baby, she knew how scared Carrie was, how much pain she was in and how she needed her to be strong.

"I'm here Carrie, it's alright you're doing great."

"Well I don't feel great. . .god how did you ever get Brady out, it feels like I'm going to explode."

"It'll get harder Carrie, but I'm here," she looked over at Big. No, they hadn't always seen eye-to-eye in the past, but today was no time for a dispute.

Carrie was wheeled into a private room and lifted, with the help of the nurse, onto the bed. The doctor came in and examined her.

"Ok, six centimetres – you're doing great. I'll be back later to check on you." As the doctor left Carrie was stunned.

"Six centimetres? SIX centimetres? Oh my god get it out!" She pressed down on her stomach. "Oh please get it out!" Miranda took her hand in hers.

"Carrie listen to me. You remember how strong you were for me? I'm going to do this for you. I'm going to get you through this."

"I'm here too kid," Big added, just to make his presence known. Carrie smiled at them but the smile soon faded as another contraction hit her.

"Ok, eight centimetres dilated," the doctor told them four hours later. Carrie swore. "You're doing great." Miranda guided the doctor out of the room, aware of the murderous gaze Carrie had given her.

"Oh honey, get them to cut it out," Samantha told her from her seat in the corner where she was busy filing her nails. "Maybe it'll bring your waistline back quicker." Carrie laughed but Charlotte frowned.

"No, Carrie you can do this natural, eight centimetres is almost there. . .you're almost there."

"Charlotte I thought I was six hours ago and yet here I am – no baby." Big had left the room in search of a cup of coffee leaving Carrie in the presence of her friends. "Why won't it come out? Brady didn't cause this much trouble. . .Brady wasn't eight days overdue. Brady didn't take so damn long to dilate. Oh god. . ." Another contraction passed. Carrie thought back to when she was twenty-two; the abortion. Was this her punishment? Was she being tormented for killing a baby all those years ago? She was brought back to reality by Miranda's voice.

"Carrie you're being silly, everything's fine. Charlotte's right, eight centimetres is almost there and who knows how quickly the other two centimetres will take." Carrie flung her head back against the pillow in exhaustion. She knew labour would be hard, just not this hard. She wasn't the most maternal woman in the world; experience had taught her that. She'd had her fair share of pregnancy scares – and that's what they had been; _scares_. But here she was, pregnant, giving birth.

When the doctor returned an hour later she gave Carrie the news she'd been waiting for.

"Ok, you're ten centimetres; lets get you down to the delivery room." Charlotte and Samantha waved Carrie, Big and Miranda down to the delivery room and wondered off towards the waiting room.

Suddenly Carrie was scared. Yes the baby was uncomfortable, yes she was in pain but, oh god; now was the time to push the baby out. Now she would change her life forever; now she was becoming a mother.

An hour later, after the screaming, the swearing, the sweating and the pushing, Carrie was handed her baby girl.

"Oh she's beautiful," she muttered, staring into her big, open eyes.

"Like you kid," Big said, stroking back the hair that had stuck to her face with one hand, stroking his daughters head with the other.

"I'm so happy for you Carrie." Miranda said, before leaving the room to tell the others the sex of the baby.

"I love you Carrie," Big told her.

"I love you too," Carrie replied. "Both of you."

Two Days Later

Sat by the window, her laptop open, with her daughter sleeping soundly in the bassinette beside her, Carrie began writing her column.

Dreams are what we make them. When we're five years old we dream of being the princess trapped in the castle waiting for her handsome prince charming. Growing up alters our dreams, and the ones we clung onto for all those childhood years get distorted and forgotten. And yet our dreams centre around the same things; love and happiness.

_For years I've wondered aimlessly through the world of love; falling in love, yet mostly falling flat on my face. But I wouldn't dream of having it any other way. I wonder now, loving my fiancé, my child, and my friends; what will happen to my first love?_

_Ah, first loves; the basketball star from high school, the older guy you fumbled around with in the back seat of his clunked out car. _

_No. _

_My first love?_

Carrie looked down at her daughter and smiled.

Sex . . . and The City.


End file.
